Austin (one ghost away)
by ThreeMagpies
Summary: A Revolution fic. post S2, Blackout AU. Charloe. Charlie is back in Austin with Miles and Bass. While they're busy talking about the war with President Blanchard, Charlie is drawn back to where she last saw Jason to make peace with his ghost. She doesn't realise that Bass has followed her.


**Austin (one ghost away)**

A Revolution fic (Blackout AU, post S2): Sebastian (Bass) Monroe/Charlotte (Charlie) Matheson. Charloe.

AN: thanks so much for reading. This is a birthday present for LoveForTheStory, a wonderful, beautiful and always caring friend and amazing sounding board for stories and life in general. I hope you enjoy this Love (I kept your wish list in mind lol!), and that you have the most wonderful, love-filled and fantastically happy birthday! Lots of love, big hugs and best wishes, Magpie.

With ex-President Davis safely in chains in a Texas prison, Charlie, Miles and Bass have been called back to Austin for an emergency meeting with Blanchard and his cabinet. The war with the scattered Patriot remnant needs to be finished fast, because the Nano looks like it's is going to be a much bigger problem. During a break in talks while the others go to a bar for a meal and a drink, Charlie is drawn somewhere else. She needs to make peace with Jason's ghost, with what happened in that derelict room. She doesn't know that Monroe sees her leave…

 **Austin (one ghost away)**

It was raining lightly, a light, misty rain falling straight down out of a flat grey sky when Charlie walked out of Blanchard's favourite watering hole leaving Blanchard, Miles and Monroe to their lunch of whisky, bread and stew. She looked up, shrugged then slipped into her jacket and kept going. Her feet seemed to know where she needed to go without her even thinking about it and the rain seemed right somehow. At least something was crying for Jason. She hadn't been able to, somehow tears wouldn't come although she could feel them inside, a cold lump in her belly that wouldn't go away, that made it hard to eat, sleep, fight...

The others wouldn't miss her, they were too busy talking about the old days, old scars, old battles and the women they'd fucked, as well as working on strategies for the war with the Patriots. Blanchard didn't give a flying walnut about her skills as a fighter anyway, all he seemed to be interested in was trying to feel her ass. Come to think of it, Blanchard hadn't even invited her. Monroe had been the one who suggested she come along and Miles had agreed straight away, no argument, probably because he could see how antsy she was getting being around her mom so much. He'd said he didn't want her heading off on her own again, but Monroe had just looked at her, almost as if he'd known she'd been thinking about doing just that.

He'd been doing that a lot lately and if it wasn't such a crazy idea she'd think he cared. She knew for sure Miles was worried about her, hell, she hadn't been able to go anywhere on her own for weeks without one or the other or sometimes both turning up with one weak excuse or another. But Monroe seemed to know what was going on in her head…

She rolled her eyes then tripped on something, just missing getting her new boots wet in a puddle on the road and nearly bumping into a woman coming the other way. She nodded an apology and kept going. Monroe and Miles had been watching over her like a couple of mother hens, it was like they thought she was going to lose it after everything that happened, like her mom did after the Tower. And it'd gotten much worse since her mom, Aaron and Priscilla had been spending most of their time in their jerry-rigged nano-proof bunker back in Willoughby trying to work out what the hell her mom's little science project was up to.

There were more and more stories going around of people who just up and left everything and everyone without a word. Like they were hypnotised or something, led away by the ghosts of people they'd loved and lost, ghosts apparently sent by the nano to take them to Bradbury, Idaho. Why it wanted all those people and why Bradbury, no one knew yet, although after Aaron telling them about Priscilla and the nano hell house, it couldn't be for anything good. Charlie had seen some weird things in the last few months, but what was happening lately was scary as hell. Maybe that was why Miles and Monroe were keeping an eye on her. She had a hell of a lot of ghosts.

Anyway. Here she was, back in Austin. Back where she'd shot and killed Jason. One of her ghosts.

The streets of Austin were quiet and subdued after the events of the last few weeks but she kept her knife drawn just in case, walking quickly, on alert. The death of Carver and then the confusion over who was the enemy and the realisation that they'd all been treated like fools by the Patriots had made people wary, angry. Those few people she met as she walked passed by quickly, quietly, their eyes skittering away from her as though they were afraid, and maybe they had reason. Anyone could be a spy or an assassin, anyone at all. Old friends, family, lovers, it didn't matter, they could have been there for years, pretending, or brainwashed and conditioned by the Patriots, just waiting for a trigger to set them off. Like Jason.

There were other dangers too. As the new leader of the most powerful nation left standing, Blanchard had told the gathering of Generals, Texas Rangers, farmers, ex-rebels and enlisted refugees from Georgia and the Republic that he wanted things tidied up as quickly as possible. There was a real possibility that Cali or the Plains Nation, or even Mexico would get it into their heads that Texas was vulnerable after Carver's assassination and decide to invade. Everyone was worried about that, as well as the possibility of patriot spies still being active, not to mention the almost unbelievable stuff about the nano.

And even with Ex-President Davis safely in a Texas jail and the Patriot high command on the run, there were a hell of a lot of soldiers still unaccounted for. Ed Truman included. Neville was still missing too, and Connor with him. At least that was where they all thought he was. She'd seen Monroe at night on watch looking out at the road, had seen the pain on his face, the grief that Connor was gone. She knew that every night he went over and over every decision he'd made, every word he'd said to his son, trying to figure out a way that it could have worked out differently. She'd heard him talking in his sleep, had seen it in his eyes and she understood. Connor was Monroe's family, although she wasn't sure he was worth all the fuss. The little shit had betrayed them and tried to kill his own father, although that didn't seem to matter.

Monroe had been thinking of leaving too.

She brushed a wet strand of hair off her face with the back of a hand. For some stupid reason she was glad he kept on deciding to stay instead of going looking for his son although she didn't want to think too much about that. Not right now anyway, not when she was trying to banish the ghost of another man. Because being glad that he stayed meant that she cared about him. And that was just stupid, wasn't it? His handsome face, those blue eyes and tall, hard body kept turning up in her dreams whether she wanted them or not. But it could just be that he was the only attractive, available man in her immediate vicinity who wasn't a traitor or dead because he was a patriot zombie?

But it wasn't just that. She knew it. Monroe was the only one who kept coming back, who survived no matter what. He was strong, smart and a deadly fighter and some part of her wanted that, needed that. He'd saved her life more times than she could count now, and he'd been loyal. He'd brought them Davis, had chosen them over his son because Miles trusted him.

She stopped walking and looked up, her mind snapping back to the mission. This was the place. She knew the building, would never forget it although the door had been freshly painted a bright, clean white. Part of Blanchard's plan to keep up morale maybe? Make the city look good, at least on the outside? She turned the handle and the door opened, just like that. Her lips tightened, better security hadn't been part of the upgrade then. Inside, the place still looked abandoned though, thick with dust and the mess of years and the stairs were slippery with damp and grime with half the balustrading gone. She started up to the next floor, stepping carefully. A fall in this place and chances were no one'd ever know what had happened to Charlie Matheson.

She got to the door of the room where she'd left Jason, weeks ago now. It was hanging off its hinges, limp, like a sad flag, the room inside dim and gloomy with dust and the clouds outside. Her eyes stung and it was suddenly even harder to see anything. Stupid tears. They were useless. She tried to blink them away but they kept coming, the dam in her chest finally letting go.

It hadn't been her fault, but it hadn't been his either, the Patriots had done it. But none of that mattered now. He was dead and she'd killed him.

She took a steadying breath in, steeling herself. There was no reason to suspect that he'd been found. The building was obviously abandoned and no one except her knew exactly where he was. And who'd care anyway? Except Neville of course, and he hadn't asked, although she would have told him if he had. No matter what he'd done he was still Jason's family. But he hadn't asked, just tried to kill her.

She took another step inside, looking around. After she shot him he'd fallen against a bookshelf, away from the dirty, grey window and onto the floor. His blood had gone everywhere…

She looked. But there was nothing. No body, no pool of dried blood on the floor. Nothing. She went in further, confused but sure it was the right place. The view from the window was at the right angle to the square outside and there were scuffs on the ledge and marks in the dust where Jason'd had the gun resting but he wasn't there.

For a brief, dislocating moment she thought she had to be in the wrong place, although she'd been so sure.

Then she found some blood spatters on the bookcase, and the wall behind it. And a partial handprint on a table leg.

It was the right place after all. But someone had taken him away.

A huge, smothering wave of sadness rolled over her, for Jason, for everyone she'd lost and like a tsunami it just kept on coming. She was choking on it, she couldn't breathe, caught fast in a tide of grief that was swamping her, pulling her under. Her head was pounding, tears rolling down her face like the rain outside, and her belly and chest hurt so much she didn't even realise that she was bent over, arms wrapped around her stomach, her pack fallen to the floor and as she fell to her knees it felt like she'd lost something, a way to mourn, to say goodbye, to say sorry…

He was gone and she'd planned to bury him, give him somewhere to rest.

'We told Blanchard what happened, Charlie, and the Rangers came and got him.' The voice came from behind her.

She froze, her body going to instant alert then she sucked in a breath, her fingers relaxing their death grip on her knife when she realized who it was, 'Monroe?' Shit. She knew she sounded hoarse, broken, and part of her didn't want him to see her like that, although another part knew he'd understand.

He dropped down on one knee next to her, big and broad, boots and the bottoms of his jeans damp and the familiar scent of leather, metal and male sweat flowing over her made more intense by the rain. It was comforting. The heat from his body spread between them, warming her. She breathed him in, relief washing over her like a wave. He'd cared enough to come after her and she was almost surprised to find how much that meant.

'I saw you leave, thought you might be headed here, and I wanted to let you to know what happened.' He hesitated, catching her eyes with his, the usually steely blue gentle now, concerned, his brow furrowed, 'in case you needed help or something.' He looked away, as though he was embarrassed.

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, getting her emotions under control again. He and Miles had probably drawn straws to see who'd follow her, it didn't have to mean anything. 'You mean in case I wandered off with any ghosts?'

He shrugged, looking back at her again, his eyes shuttered. 'Maybe, things are pretty weird right now, Charlie.'

He actually did look worried and she felt that sense of closeness again, of something growing between them, and strangely it didn't feel bad or wrong, at least no more than anything else in their screwed up world. He'd been part of her life for so long now, he'd save her life more than once, he'd even chosen her family over his own flesh and blood. He'd gone from being the monster under the bed to being someone she wanted in it. She stopped there, it was a thought that she hadn't let come out yet, although it'd been knocking on her door for quite a while now.

'Charlie? Hey, are you ok?'

Those bluer than blue eyes were anxious now, and he'd moved closer, she could see the tiny lines around his eyes and on his lips under the moustache and found herself wondering what it'd be like to kiss him. She swayed a little towards him, feeling a little overwhelmed by everything, the memories of Jason overlaid by thoughts of Monroe.

Was she ok?

She reached out a hand to stop herself falling and found his shoulder. It was hard and warm, rounded, the muscles strong and firm under her fingers. He took her weight easily. He was like a rock, steady, holding her up. 'Did you say they came and got him?'

The eyes flared and his tongue flicked out over his lips. 'They took him and buried him with full honours, Charlie, as a soldier.'

A single tear seared a path down her cheek. 'It wasn't his fault, the patriots triggered him, and he wouldn't stop. I tried to talk to him, but he wouldn't stop.'

Bass Monroe reached out and carefully brushed the tear away with a long, hard finger. 'It wasn't your fault either, you know that, don't you? Sometimes bad shit just happens.'

She stared at him for a long moment. 'Yeah, I guess. but I had to come anyway.'

He nodded, 'I know.'

Somehow her hand was still on his shoulder and her fingers moved a little, feeling the warmth of him under the worn, faded leather of his jacket. She squeezed a little then took a deep breath and using his shoulder as a brace she stood up and let go. 'So where did they take him?'

He followed her up, his body tall, solid, face calm but full of something she couldn't quite make out. 'He's in Austin Memorial Park. We can go there now if you like, I brought the horses.'

Something Miles had told her when he was very drunk and they thought that Monroe was dead floated to the front of her mind. Miles had said that Sebastian Monroe lost his whole family in one dreadful accident sometime before the blackout, then he'd lost his wife and new baby a couple of years after it, before he and Miles started the Republic. That was a whole lot of death and loss to cope with and grief had made him into a monster. For a while anyway. Things were different now though, he was different, she'd watched him trying to prove that starting on the day he rescued her in Pottsboro, maybe even before that, and she'd take a bet it was Monroe who'd contacted Blanchard about Jason. Miles would never have thought of it.

She looked up at him, he was watching her, patient, giving her time.

She nodded, stooping to pick up her bag, 'I'd like that, thank you.' She slung it over her shoulder, taking a last look around the silent, dusty room. There were no ghosts here now, not for her anyway. Monroe had seen to that. She glanced up at him, feeling like some of the weight had fallen off her shoulders. 'What about Blanchard and Miles, shouldn't you be getting back?'

He shrugged, his lips curving just a little. 'I told Miles I was coming to find you, and they don't need us anyway, he and Blanchard'll come up with a brilliant plan between them that sounds totally ridiculous and where we'll stand a pretty good chance of getting killed, but so long as we all just fall into line we'll come out the other side, like we always do.'

She choked off a laugh, 'yeah, right…' She saw him turn to go and pulled him back, 'hey, Monroe?'

'What?' He was tense, alert for whatever danger faced them, but the only danger here was from her.

She reached up, pulled his head down and kissed him.

He jerked a little, surprised, sucking a sharp breath in that took hers with it but then he groaned something she couldn't catch and kissed her back. His lips hot and eager on hers, soft and hard at the same time, his tongue dipping in, slipping around hers, exploring the soft insides of her mouth in an explosion of sensation that sent her reeling, and the feel of the springy curls of his scruff new and tantalizing on her cheeks. His strong hands gripped her shoulders, his fingers spreading out, holding her tight, his legs bracing hers, his body tall and wide and so very, very male, surrounding her...

Charlie had meant the kiss as a thank you, but it felt like so much more than that, even more than she'd imagined in curious dreams during long days and nights on the road or alone in her bed in Willoughby. She deepened the kiss, tasting whisky and the salt on his skin, her arms snaking around his neck, eyes fluttering shut, her body pressed close to his, her breasts against his heart, feeling it beating as fast as hers. Damn, it felt so good.

He pulled away a little, breathing hard, his eyes burning down at her, deep pools of blue for her to drown in. 'Charlie, I…' His voice was a little hoarse, 'that was…unexpected.'

She fell into those eyes for a moment, still lost in the kiss, then let her eyes and arms drop, her hands sliding down over the smooth planes of his chest. 'I wanted to thank you for coming, for being here for me, and I guess I just wanted to kiss you.' Had she made a mistake? But he'd kissed her back, she definitely hadn't imagined that, her whole body was still buzzing. 'Should I be sorry?'

He licked his lips, eyes searching for hers, finding them, his hands stroking up and down over her arms. 'Hey, God, no… don't be sorry. You can do whatever you want, whenever you want. And you don't need to thank me. You've probably guessed how I feel about you, I just haven't had the balls to say anything…' A golden brown eyebrow lifted above warm crystal blue, and his lips curved into a smile, 'but if Miles asks, you touched me first, ok?'

She laughed then, feeling the weight on her heart lifting even more, 'I don't care what Miles thinks, it's got nothing to do with him, or anyone else.' She slid a hand back up over his chest, stopping over his heart, feeling it beating strong and steady against her palm. 'What happened to Jason wasn't right, or fair, but he's gone, I can deal with that now. No more ghosts.' She stared up at him, putting everything she had into her eyes, needing him to see that she meant it. 'And I realised that I've been thinking about someone else for quite a while now.'

His smile got wider, lips curving slowly over strong, white teeth. 'I was hoping you'd say something like that, Charlie.'

…..

AN: Hi Love! Happy birthday, I hope you enjoyed Bass helping Charlie deal with what happened in Austin. I couldn't help adding a little kiss at the end though, because after all this is a Charloe story and something more is going to happen between them very soon lol! Anyway, wishing you all the best things for this year! May all your wishes and dreams come true and bring happiness, health and good times, Live long and prosper my friend :D xxx love, Magpie


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